


Paint it Black

by sksdwrld



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Artists, Coffee Shops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for Merlin to come clean about who he really is and what he really wants from Mordred. (innocuous fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint it Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BekahRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekahRose/gifts).



Mordred checked his watch and hummed to himself, grabbing a rag from beneath the counter and quickly swiping it over everything within reach. Any minute now, the afternoon delight was going to walk through the door of the coffee shop, and while the boss-lady didn't mind a little chit-chat on the clock, she didn't tolerate a messy workspace.

 

When the door jingled, Mordred glanced up, smirked, and stowed the rag back where he had gotten it from. He braced his palms on the counter and leaned forward, drinking in the young man who had just come in; the same young man who came in every afternoon around this time. He was tall and very slender with a shock of unkempt black hair that sometimes had a splash of vivid colour in the bangs. His pallor was accentuated by the clothes he wore: sometimes his outfits were frivolous, sometimes eccentric, and sometimes risqué, but they were always black. Today, he was looking tame but beautiful nonetheless in a pair of black dress trousers and a black wool peacoat. There was a hint of red peeking through at the neck where the man’s scarf protruded. Mordred found himself drawn to it and he stared until the young man grinned at him.

 

“Ah, Jethro.” Mordred straightened and glanced up at the menu board that he knew hung over him. “What’ll it be today?”

 

“You know it’s not _Jethro_ , right?” The young man glanced up, though Mordred thought that he must know the menu by rote at this point.

 

“I had an idea,” Mordred admitted. “But you did tell me it was Jethro.”

 

“I wanted to see how many ridiculous names I could get you to write on my cup,” Not-Jethro smiled. “But you remembered after the first time. So...”

 

“So, what is it then?” Mordred pulled his sharpie from his pocket and clicked the nib out.

 

“Merlin.”

 

“No, really,” Mordred laughed. 

 

“Really.” Merlin sighed and tossed his head to get his fringe off of his face. “And I guess you had better make it a tall peppermint-mocha latte.”

 

“Festive,” Mordred said and pulled the appropriate paper cup. He penned _Merlin_ with a flourish and bent to get the milk from the cooler. “Better than _Jethro_ at any rate.”

 

“Yeah?” Merlin smiled. 

 

"Yeah. Out of curiosity, what other dodgy monikers were you gonna throw at me?"

 

"Albus. Hawthorne. Ransom. Ichabod." Merlin shrugged.

 

Mordred snorted and clanged the metal pitcher under the steamer at the same time. "Come on, _Ichabod_? That's almost as bad as _Mordred_.” He pumped the syrup into Merlin’s cup and put it on the next station.

 

“Yes, but that gem was already taken...” Merlin leaned forward and Mordred was momentarily distracted by the long, thin fingers on his countertop.

 

“Yeah,” Mordred agreed, feeling stupid for not having something more intelligent on the tip of his tongue. He stabbed his finger into the button on the espresso machine. "Got a regular guy in the morning, insists on calling me _Moe_. So, there’s always that.” Mordred pulled the milk from under the steamer and began to pour it into the cup.

 

“I _like_ Mordred, actually,” Merlin said as he scrutinised his nails. 

 

Mordred smiled to himself and picked up the chocolate syrup. In the foam of Merlin’s drink, he dashed off a rough skull, adding a Santa-hat at the last moment. Then, he passed the cup, a lid, and a cardboard sleeve over the counter to Merlin.

 

Glancing at the design, Merlin pulled a face although the corners of his mouth pulled up again. "Cute."

 

“Three-ten.”

 

Merlin handed Mordred the cash, and as Mordred made to drop the change in his hand, Merlin’s fingers brushed his. “Are you off at five?”

 

"As usual. But don't worry. Gwen will be in to fulfil all of your caffination-requirements," Mordred replied, knowing that Merlin often lingered for hours, working on school projects or sometimes just listening to music and watching people pass by the windows. He wondered if Merlin was avoiding something at home or if he just enjoyed the hubbub of the city at night. When Merlin pocketed the change instead of flinging it in the tip jar as usual, Mordred’s heart skipped a beat.

 

"Actually...I was wondering if you had class, or any other...pressing appointments."

 

"Um..." If Mordred had had any, he was no longer aware of them. The thrill of what was to come was rapidly shoving the contents of his brain out through his ears. He cleared his throat and tried to act casual. "Ah, no. No...pressing engagements at all. Why?"

 

Merlin's smile deepened before he looked away. "I'd like to paint you, if you were up for it."

 

"To...paint me?" Mordred echoed. "For like an art class project or something?"

 

"Or something." Merlin sipped his latte and his cheekbones pinked. "For my...personal collection. For... _pleasure_."

 

"Oh," Mordred said as his mind tried to shift into warp-speed but flickered and burned out instead. "Um, yeah. I think we could work something out."

 

Merlin reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He pressed it down on the counter, tapping it twice for emphasis. "Cool. Call me...when you're ready to get off...I mean, done with your shift." He flushed then, the tips of his ears turning a delightful red.

 

"You're not going to hang around?" Mordred pocketed the paper without looking at it.

 

"Nah. Be a bit awkward now that I've just asked to see you naked."

 

"Naked?" Mordred's eyebrows shot up.

 

"Er, yeah. Sorry, when I said 'paint you', I meant... _paint you_. No canvas, just you. And then I'll..." Sheepishly, Merlin smiled and then fished in his rucksack for a moment, holding up a camera. "Maybe that changes things?"

 

Mordred swallowed thickly and then shook his head. Just skip the first three dates and go directly to kinky, naked sexy times with the fucking _artist_ he'd been ogling for months.

 

"Good." Merlin knocked his knuckles on the counter again and turned, flinging one hand up as he made a hasty departure.

 

Mordred grinned and waved in return, realising only once Merlin was gone that he was going to be completely useless for the next two hours. But at least Morgana wouldn't be able to complain that he wasn't smiling at the customers. At this point, it might just be the only thing he was capable of.

**Author's Note:**

> Bekah, rest assured that there will be another part to this piece. A part with delicious and deviant sexing. For now, enjoy your Christmas fluff.
> 
> Also, this is what I started writing for your Black Christmas Tree prompt but then I found our you preferred Gothic!Mordred, so here we are. You shall have them both, All the things for you, my love!


End file.
